A Matter Of Reconcile
by Mirum Kai
Summary: Following World War II, it is crucial for all participating nations to come together and collectively bandage their wounds. Under the direction of England, these proud countries must acknowledge the mistakes of the past in order to salvage the peace of the future. One-shot. Although it says Hurt/Comfort, stick around for a little ending surprise you just might hate me for. Enjoy!


'Ello! HSB here with a slightly more somber story. It's not angst, but it's definitely not my usual cheery, happy-go-lucky story either. I read _The Diary of A Young Girl, _and while it's not the most action packed story (she lives in an attic for two years), it's definitely inspirational enough to quote. So please enjoy my history-filled one-shot on the reconciliation of the countries following World War II.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia characters to my dismay. I don't own Anne Frank's diary entry either, though I think that copyright expired a looong time ago. No, but seriously I don't own the entry, but it would be epic if I did. 0o0

Because peace treaties are overrated…

* * *

_**Anne Frank, Wednesday, 3 May, 1944**_

"_I don't believe that the big men, the politicians and the capitalists alone, are guilty of the war. Oh no, the little man is just as guilty, otherwise the peoples of the world would have risen in revolt long ago! There's in people simply an urge to destroy, an urge to kill, to murder and rage, and until all mankind, without exception, undergoes a great change, wars will be waged, everything that has been built up, cultivated, and grown will be destroyed and disfigured, after which mankind will have to begin all over again."_

The meeting room was filled with coldness. Whether of hate or shame, it was hard to tell ranging from each individual. With the exception of those neutral, everyone who participated was present without fail.

Many of the countries refused to meet another's eye. The conflicted faces were regretting shots that shouldn't have been fired, treaties that shouldn't have been broken, lines that should have never been crossed.

After a deep breath England addressed the conference, "I know you may all be uncomfortable right now, but what's done is done. It's time to acknowledge our mistakes and move on."

He cast a weary gaze around the room. "Would anyone like to start?"

For a few long minutes it was quiet. It went on for so long that England began to accept that everyone's pride was getting in the way. Then, to his great surprise, Germany spoke up first.

"I apologize for breaking the Treaty of Versailles…and starting this whole mess again." He turned to England, France, America, Russia, and Italy as he made his amends. A small smile of gratitude made its way onto his face as each of the World War I Allies, whom he signed the treaty with, nodded in acceptance. The previous affair wasn't a pleasant memory…

_Germany paced the small room in anticipation. Everything had gone downhill, and now he had to face the consequences. _

_The room itself was comfortable. Vintage furniture that included thick velvet curtains, filtering the light a red hue. A wooden table sat in the center of the room. On his side of it lay a single pen engraved with the words 'If there is no struggle, there is no progress'. He automatically assumed it was Italy's doing. For some reason the Italian always did little things like that to make him feel better about his mistakes, even ones as large as this. _

_Growing bored of restlessly walking around the room, he finally sat down at the table. Sinking into the plush armchair, he thought about why he was all alone in this room. _

_His so-called allies, the Central Powers, had all ditched him in the end. First it was Austria and Hungary talking about 'inner conflict'. Pfft! Lies. Then out went Bulgaria, but that didn't really bother him, good riddance to that stupid stick! And Turkey, he didn't need that creep anyways. Sloppy, the whole lot of them! Couldn't even properly fight in a war; no communication whatsoever, and they didn't sign half the Declarations of War. They don't even have the dignity to face the consequences like a man. And Italy...he never would have dreamed of him going behind his back. They had a treaty. Though he should have expected such a juvenile country to bail on the first sign of trouble…_

_The door burst open as he concluded his thoughts, finally the moment he had been dreading. In stepped, England and France shortly followed by a distanced Russia and America, and lastly Italy. He shuffled around the back of the group a bit nervously. They approached the opposite side of the table._

_England spoke up, "We have come to an agreement – "_

_Germany abruptly stood up from his chair, anger quickly filling his previously calm demeanor. "What!? You can't do that without my say!" _

_France stepped forward crossing his arms, "Actually we can, you were so busy ticking us off and starting trouble, the consequences must have slipped your mind. Do you know how many problems you've caused?" _

"_Of course, and I apologize, if I didn't I wouldn't be standing here right now. But, it must have slipped __**your**__ mind that a treaty is a __**mutual **__agreement!"_

_England regained control, "Please calm down. We can't fix this if we argue all day. America, the treaty please."_

_With a cruel smirk, he slammed the paper flat on the table. Germany cautiously stepped forward to read the document. After looking over the contract, he almost laughed. This is ridiculous. There's no way. It must be a sick joke to intimidate him or an unedited version._

"_You can't be serious."_

_He looked up into each of their faces, not a hint of mirth was found. For a second, Germany considered ripping up the document and shoving it in their faces. _

"_There's no way I'm agreeing to this."_

"_Doitsu…" Italy spoke up for the first time, his voice somber, "please, it was the best we could do."_

"'_The best you could do…?' Did you even read this!" He returned his glare to the document as if its production was to blame for all of his immediate problems. "It says 'The country of Germany must take the blame for all the allied losses and pay reparations. He must also lose 10% of European territory, as well as colonies abroad. The standing military of Germany must be reduced to only 100,000. Finally, he must agree to the Fourteen Points plan, mainly the ratification of the League of Nations.'"_

"_It's logical." France replied._

"_It's blasphemy!" He balled it up and began the action of throwing it to the ground before Russia addressed him._

"_Please remember that if you disregard our treaty, we will be forced to invade your country."_

_After mumbling a few insults, Germany gave in and signed the Treaty of Versailles. As most business affairs go, the lot dismissed themselves the second it was confirmed. But on their way out the door, they didn't miss his final words._

"_Don't think that this is over."_

And it wasn't.

That was one of many wounds that were to be stitched shut on the occasion. There were to be apologies for each man killed in battle, and though it would take centuries for the heartache to fade, closure was the first step in the healing process.

America, completely devoid of his superhero façade for once, cleared his throat. He knew that a lot of Japan's casualties were the results of his atomic bombs.

He turned his full body towards the serene country. He still had no clue why someone like him would partake in this brutal war. He guessed conflict did strange things to people.

"Japan, I am truly sorry for my actions. I take full responsibility." He put his hand over his heart in a display of sincerity.

"I too apologize, for the sorrow I caused on December 7, 1941, by bringing you into this war." He bowed with closed eyes as he recalled the event.

_Japan stepped out of his superior's office with a look of horror. He just couldn't believe what was just asked of him, or more like demanded. He couldn't do it. This surge for power was just going too far. First, invading China. Now, attacking America. _

_He understood that they needed the oil that was being cut off, but is this the only solution? Sighing, he marched down towards the military department. He searched out the head of his Kamikaze division. _

"_Excuse me General Aoki, may I have a word?" _

_General Aoki – a tall middle aged man with the friendliest attitude despite the irony in relation to his line of work – turned around before bowing in respect of his superior._

"_Hello, it is a pleasure to see you this morning, Japan. How may I be of service?"_

"_Good morning, but…I would like to speak on this matter privately." He said as he looked around at the hordes of staff passing by._

"_Ah, no problem." The general directed Japan to a quaint office separated from the rest of the room by a cherry blossom rice paper wall. Through the screen, you could just make out their shadowed figures._

_They stood, most likely conversing, before they apparently came to an arrangement, and Japan exited the room. When he returned to his own office and shut the door behind him, the kind-hearted man slid down the door as he grimaced in regret._

_XxX~In Hawaii~xXx_

_America smiled brightly as he strode down the long corridor to his next meeting. They were to discuss a recent message sent in from Washington. It required him to fly in to Oahu, but he didn't mind. It was a beautiful day on a beautiful island. Looking to his right through the floor to ceiling windows, he admired the powerful Pacific Fleet as one of his lackeys, a nerdy brunette, proposed a question. _

"_Do you think it could be a Declaration of War?" He half-jogged to keep up with America's long confident strides._

"_Ha! Who cares? None will stand a chance against me. I'm America, remember that." He smiled patting the young man's shoulder in reassurance._

_He nervously looked out the window, "I don't know…I have a bad feeling about this."_

_A female voice blared out from busted speakers, 'Hello! If you have a look out over to the Pacific, you'll see our B-17s coming back from an expedition. How about a nice cheer to welcome them home?'_

_America and his assistant stopped and turned to clap for the returning fleet in the distance. "See, here come a couple of our boys now." They watched as they quickly approached the harbor._

"_Hm, they sure are flying in close." America commented._

"_Yeah…hey isn't the airport a bit down the way?" The young helper asked. _

_America nodded before stepping closer to the window. "What do they think they're doing…?" He asked under his breath. He squinted to get a closer look._

_The men on the ships attention was drawn to the aircraft by now. One of the lookouts in the crow's nest began yelling frantically towards the other seamen after which they attempted to evacuate the ship._

_This revelation came two seconds later to America's assistant. "Those aren't our planes, they're – "_

_An explosion interrupted his words as a jet made impact on the furthest ship. Almost immediately, staff filled the hallway frantically searching for ways to defend Pearl Harbor. The lackey hurriedly pulled on the sleeve of the shocked nation. "Come on! It's Kamikaze, we need to get out of here!"_

_As soon as he finished his sentence another blast came from a suicide plane crashing into a member of the Pacific Fleet; then another, and another. America's gaze wandered to the U.S.S. Arizona and watched as over 1,000 crewmen were brutally blasted from the water._

_America, his assistant, and several dozen more witnesses stood in that hallway for two hours, watched two waves fly in, and saw over 3,500 individuals victimized._

_In the aftermath, just about everyone in the hallway shed tears; some silent as they fell from their face, others full out bawling as they watched colleagues, friends, and in some cases relatives searched for by rescue teams._

"_Will…" America started off. His assistant sat on the floor near the feet of his boss, his face tear-stained. Yet, at the sound of his name, he put on a brave face and stood up._

"_Yes, sir?"_

_The burning remains reflected into America's fiercely set irises as he made his claim._

"_Call Frank. This is war."_

England smiled and walked around the meeting room. He could feel the tension in the air begin to dissipate as one after another, apologies flooded the room. He was surprised for the second time that day when a few countries exchanged hugs.

In a few awkward moments, it seemed to spread and now everyone was hugging. He furrowed his majestic brows and made sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, it happened often enough.

He tried to just be happy that everyone was getting along so well, but he felt more like fainting than smiling. Especially after seeing Bulgaria give Germany a bear hug, and Germany return it.

No something definitely isn't right about this.

France came up from behind him with love in his eyes. Feeling his presence, England whirls around to face him, wary of physical contact.

"Oh, England this is so wonderful." He moved forward arms stretched out wide.

This isn't exactly bizarre, but he still doesn't want France to hug him, so he slowly backs away.

Suddenly, to his extreme chagrin, he backs into Italy who pounces onto his back to give him an embrace. One after the other countries jump onto him for hugs. _What in the blazes is going on!? I'm not a bloody teddy bear!_

He spots Romano hugging Spain (who he despises), and then Russia cuddling America (who equally despise each other). It's all so much opposition to reality that England begins to accept his fate.

He looks to his left and right, where he finds Hungary and Japan latching onto him with manic grins on their faces. "Alright, alright! What do you guys want me to do!? I'll do anything!"

They just keep smiling like a bunch of psychos, in fact, the only sounds are over enthusiastic sighs of relief.

"What do you want?! Do you want me to eat a burger? Huh!? America you'd like that wouldn't you?"

A sliver of drool slips down the young nations lips at the thought of his favorite food.

"Ew, okay. How about…France! I'll sign the marriage proposal deal, okay!?" England is honestly stuck between two rational thought explanations; either apologies are too much for their egos and turn them into love-crazed zombies or he's finally going insane.

When France starts wiggling his arms above his head in celebration, he begins to believe that the second one sounds more realistic.

"Oh, what do you all want!? How about free pasta on me, eh? If I give you free pasta will you let me go Italy?"

He cranes his neck back to see Italy shaking his head _no._

He yells indignantly, "'No', what do you mean 'no'?! I'm going crazy for ideas and the most obvious one is a no?! You know what? You're right! No, no, no, no, no!" He shouts it at the top of his lungs so passionately, everyone joins in until it's just a mantra of psychotic proportions.

_This is the end. The great nation of England is over, and it's death by idiot overload! I knew it would end this way…_

Smack!

"Wake up!"

England wakes up in the presence of blue bed sheets, his bed sheets. He feels the stinging sensation that comes with being backhanded. Turning to his attacker, he finds America. "See, told ya it just takes a hero!" He looks over to the man being proved wrong. France. He shivers a bit before inquiring of his current position.

France explains, his voice laced with pity, "You entered a vodka drinking contest with Russia and well…"

"You lost _bad._" America finishes.

"So…I just passed out from liquor overload." He asked, relief pouring through his veins and soothing his rapidly beating heart.

"On the second shot."

"Russia wasn't even warmed up yet."

"Okay, thank you for the insight gentlemen." England harshly interrupted. "Did anything else happen? Anything…affectionate."

"Uhh, you bet him and lost twenty dollars, but I wouldn't call that affectionate. Unless you love money secretly."

France and England stare at the young nation for a second before choosing to ignore him and his stupidity.

"I don't think that's the case, genius. Anyways, why do you ask?"

"No reason. Just, do you remember what happened during the World War II reconciliation meeting?"

"You don't remember?"

He shook his head.

America turned to him, "We all turned into hug desperate lunatics and smothered you unconscious, duh."

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

* * *

Oh my, it just goes to show that I can't stay serious for one story. I'm gonna keep the genre 'Hurt/Comfort' just to mess with people though. Muahaha!

But seriously, I don't like the thought of leaving someone on a sad note. So I probably just ruined whatever connection you had to this story…sorry. Oh, and that was a Fredrick Douglas quote on the pen. Just a bit of a disclaimer, but again that copyright probably expired a loooong time ago.

Anyways, I hope you like it regardless of my twisted humor! Wait, for the record, I wasn't referring to the WWII events, I was referring to trolling my readers and flipping their emotions like a pancake. Soooooo..

Don't forget to drop a review on your way out!

This is HSB typing out~

Ciao!


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